


To Dare the Fire

by armitageadoration



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:52:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armitageadoration/pseuds/armitageadoration
Summary: She was cast aside by those that brought her life. She was considered wrong and even unholy. Yet, she harmed none. When Thorin Oakenshield meets her, she is just a stranger in the woods. Gandalf, however knows her. Her name is Cyra. She knows Gandalf's oldest name as well. Under one condition Cyra agrees to accompany Gandalf, Bilbo, and the Company of Dwarves.The condition is that Gandalf can never tell the rest what she is.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Some time ago…._ **

_Thorin Oakenshield had decided to walk away from his company. It was either that or a fight would have erupted between himself and one or more of the men. The further he walked, the calmer his mind and heart felt. Thorin stopped at a large pool for a drink of water. Frowning, he heard the barest hint of music playing._

_Unable to determine where it was coming from, he stopped and just listened. The crystalline music was that of rushing waters and tinkling ice, it stopped abruptly. Apparently the one playing the music had noticed they were no longer alone._

_“You are a long way from home, Dwarf.” The voice was friendly._

_“I am. I did not mean to interrupt you.”_

_“And you did not.”_

_“Where are you?”_

_The woman slipped from behind the trees with gentle steps. She was about his height he determined, perhaps slightly taller. When the clouds allowed the moon to peek through the light made her flesh seem iridescent, otherwise she appeared human._

_“Greetings Dwarf.” She curtsied to Thorin. “I am called Cyra.”_

_“What is your nature woman?”_

_“I nay understand what it is you mean.”_

_“Your race.” For some reason he expected the woman to have had a more child-like voice. Instead, her voice was a warm rasp with the richness of the finest of velvets._

_“It does not truly matter does it? You are but a traveler upon these lands.”_

_“Why are you here?”_

_“This is my home. Why are you here Dwarf?”_

_“Why are you not with your people?”_

_She rolled her eyes at him. “You ask many questions, do you not?”_

_When she saw how his hand was kept at the hilt of his sword, she shook her head._

_“No need Dwarf. I am not here to harm you.  You are in my home, I am not in yours. I simply ask for you to take your leave of my sanctuary.” Once more the woman curtsied and she returned to the trees_

_Once again, the music began to play. The whisper of waves and ice now took on a melancholy tone. Slowly, Thorin backed away. He didn’t feel any sort of danger from the female, but there was something else that he was unable to put his finger on it._

_When he finally returned to where his men and the others were, they were all asleep except the guards and of course, Gandalf. Thorin sat near the wizard and told him of the strange encounter with woman._

_“Did she have a name?”_

_“Cyra.”_

_Gandalf’s eyes widened at the mention of the name. It was one that was not unknown to him. “Where was she Thorin?”_

_“Not far from here at the cold pool. She hides around the trees and plays music.” Thorin shrugged._

_“I must go to the girl now. Stay Thorin. Do not leave the campsite.”  Gandalf commanded._

_Thorin, being Thorin, gave the wizard a withering look. He wasn’t going back._

_With worry writ on his brow, it took Gandalf longer to reach the pool than it had Thorin.  When he arrived, the only sound was wind rustling through the trees._

_“Cyra??” Gandalf cried out her name._

_“Olórin!”  She cried out with pleasure. The name was an old name of his of times long passed. She carried the harp that she had been playing when she drifted past the trees. The strings appeared to be made of water droplets. Bowing before Gandalf, she looked upwards and smiled to the wizard._

_“Please child, Gandalf here.”_

_“As you desire my friend. How are you?”_

_“I am well little Cyra. Are you following us?”_

_“No. Unless I need to be?” She looked up quizzically. “This is truly my home.”_

_“Do you know Thorin?”_

_She shook her head. “I know of him and met him earlier. Surly fellow.” She smiled. “What are you doing with dwarves my friend?”_

_“Permitting them to follow their destiny. Will you join us Cyra?”_

_She tapped a finger against her pursed lips, considering. “I will. There is one condition. You cannot permit them the knowledge of who I am. My name is Cyra and that is all.”_

_“I accept your proposition dear Cyra.”_

**_Later_ **

_Cyra lay in wait. The darkened home of the Dwarf King was near silent, now. She had witnessed the argument between the King and Dwalin. Tears had dripped silently down her cheeks for not a sound could be made if this was to succeed. Thorin had succumbed to the Dragon Sickness. She knew her purpose now, as Gandalf had shown her. As her’s was an unholy birth, she was different. Even Gandalf did not know her True Age. One such as she was half wild in so many ways but not all. So, she waited. And waited still._

_Thorin had awoken once more._

_She could hear the madness and lust in his voice. Inwardly, she flinched. Having spent the length of this Journey in the company of the Dwarf King and his men, she realized it was not the Thorin she knew. Slowly, Cyra moved. Lightness of step paved her way towards the Dwarf. In his madness he was oblivious to the movement of shadows._

_A golden coin was removed from her pocket. With a snap of fingers she bounced the coin in his direction and set it rolling. Thorin’s first thought was to snatch the coin. He realized instantly for a coin to move as it did, it had to come from someone else. Or perhaps something else._

_Whirling around, he called out. “WHO DARES TO TRY AND STEAL THE GOLD OF THE RIGHTOUS KING?”_

_One step. Two steps. Then she stepped into the light._

_“I dare.” She stood tall. There was a haughty tilt of her chin and a smirk upon full lips. Cyra was a vision of beauty for the King. Her long fiery curls were braided back. She stood tall and proud up against Thorin, something he did not expect. While slim, she was broad shouldered and then her body tapered. The slenderness of waist made the woman look fragile. It was easy to ignore the ripple of muscle across her belly and down her legs. “And you dwarf may do nothing about it.”_

_The clothing she wore seemed to be woven from gold. With each breath, the flutter of cloth and leather was a serpentine of gold across her body. Lust of another sort filled Thorin’s eyes. Even he could not decide if it were the lust of body or blood. He lunged at the woman but with speed she disappeared into the shadows once again. Another coin rolled from the opposite direction which caused him to turn abruptly._

_“Where have you gone Cyra?” He snarled._

_“I’m still here Thorin.” The voice seemed disembodied._

_When he screamed in rage, she laughed at him. Showing just enough of herself, she ran, enticing him to follow. The threats that followed almost made her laugh. If she were to die at the hands of the dwarf, so be it. Still, she wouldn’t be an easy kill._

_Finally, bored with the chase, she walked towards him. Feet silent against the golden floor, she darted when he tried to attack. Finally, she allowed him to capture her. He pushed her roughly into a pillar and she drew no weapon in defense. His fingers wrapped around her throat, holding her in place._

_“What are you Cyra?” He breathed in the scent of her skin._

_“I have told you before Thorin Oakenshield, it matters not. You are just a traveler in these lands.”_

_“THESE ARE MY LANDS! THIS IS MY HOME!” He roared._

_Her shining eyes were touched with sadness. Cyra didn’t try to fight the hand upon her throat. Instead, she laid her hand to his cheek and smiled a sad smile._

_“No. It is not. You are but a traveler still. You will see your people dead and dying. Your people are more lost now than they were cast out of Erebor. You cannot be king if you have no people. Without your people you will wither and die. Gold will never love you as you love it, Thorin.”_

_He went to backhand her for such insolence. “I will see you dead.”_

_“Perhaps. But you will be just as dead.” Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him with something far sweeter than gold. “Listen to yourself Thorin Oakenshield. Listen to the words that speak in your heart, head, and gut. Dwell on them before it is too late.”_

_He stumbled back. The madness was reaching its crescendo. The sights and sounds that shrieked through his mind were all he knew. Slowly, the sickness started to break. And when he looked again, she was gone._

**_Now_ **

Erebor was back in the hands of the rightful King now. Cyra stood in her chambers under the Lonely Mountain packing her bag. It was time for her to return to her sanctuary.

Thorin should have died in combat against Azog but he didn’t. Cyra had not been far away when she saw Azog pierce Thorin. Although she always had the magic to create something out of nothing, she had no idea how powerful the magic could be. In his dying moments, Thorin killed Azog. She had raced across the ice and tossed magic at his wound. It was something she had never done before. Whatever was created by her hand and mind stopped the bleeding and the destruction of tissues.

It had taken hours and the thrown magic saved his life.  Thorin writhed in agony as she began to heal him. He was given no relief from the agony, for nothing could give him relief. The magic was strong but it was cruel.  Still, she managed to pick apart her magic and heal his wounds a little at a time. The process took days.

Once healed and could rest, Cyra disappeared not long after that. That much output of such powerful magic exhausted her and she needed her own time to recover. While she was out of sight from the dwarves, Gandalf always knew of her location.

She had helped the company of dwarves settle in to their home once again. Her work was finished. A kiss brushed the tips of two fingers and she laid those fingers against the door. A silent whisper of prayer left her lips with none the wiser.

Cyra would admit to none but herself that she was saddened to go. Yet, she knew that she must. These were not her people and should her secret ever be discovered it was unsure what they might do.

She had almost wound her way to exiting when Dwalin stopped her.

“Where are you going little Cyra?”

“Home Dwalin. My services are no longer needed.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I did what I came to do, now I seek my own respite in my sanctuary.”

“Have you spoken with Thorin?”

“No, why would I?”

“I believe you should.” He wrapped his arm over her shoulders and began to lead her to Thorin’s chambers.

“Dwalin, I am sure I can find my way on my own.” The words were gentle.

“Allow me, please?”

The large dwarf pounded on the door to Thorin’s chambers. When the irritated voice called out, permitting entrance, Dwalin all but shoved her inside and closed the door.

Thorin sat by the fire, reading. He appeared as surprised as she was for being there.

“What are you doing here Cyra?” His voice was filled with curiosity.

“I was preparing to depart for home, until Dwalin found me.”

“Leaving? Whatever for?”

“This is not my home.”

Thorin heaved a sigh. This was not something he was prepared for. “Would you have a seat before going? I would like to speak with you.”

The nod she gave was wary but she did take the seat.

“What did you do Cyra?”

“What is it you are asking Thorin?”

“To me.”

“That does not narrow it down well enough.”

He chuckled softly. “To break the sickness.”

“Nothing. You did that all yourself.”

“You lie to me? Why?”

“I do not lie to you. I gave you the gift of seeing through the sickness is all. It wasn’t magic it was redirection.”

He nodded, considering her words. “And the magic?”

“I know not. That is the sworn truth. I have never done that before Thorin Oakenshield and I doubt I will ever do so again.”

“What are you?”

“It is of no matter.” She shook her head. “I was born of something so cruel that I was cast away because of it.”

“Born of cruelty you may be, but you are not cruel.”

“I cannot say I am not cruel, I have just not found a reason to be cruel.”

“You speak in riddles.”

“Not intentionally. You may ask me whatever you wish. I just am permitted to respond with whatever I wish.”

“Do not go Cyra.”

“I cannot stay Thorin.”

The hurt in his eyes betrayed him. “Does your name have meaning?”

“All names have meaning.” She gave a half smile. “Mine happens to mean fire.” Rising, she stepped to him. Kissing his cheek with warmth and affection, she whispered softly in his ear. “And your name means to dare. Until we meet again my King.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

One full day had passed since leaving Erebor and Cyra was on her way home to her own sanctuary.  She missed the little grove in some ways. There she was safe. No harm could come to her on those grounds. It was a gift from her grandsire. No one could enter the sanctuary that the ground did not deem worthy.

Yet, it was a lonely life there. At least she would have her music and her knowledge once again. There would be no one to disturb her unless she wished to be disturbed.

A small fire had been made, which would be dangerous for a woman on her own. It could draw the attention of all manner of unsavory types. Cyra was not concerned. She removed the small harp from her pack and brought it to life with just a touch of her fingertip.

The sounds were no longer the warm soothing sounds of water. Even when she played the most melancholy of songs, the water soothed. Now, it was the sorrow of loss after a fire. The song blazed to life while fingers touched the strings. Cyra gave her soul to the song in that moment.

Hot tears stung her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. Finally, she allowed the pain to be released and sat before the fire sobbing. She had no idea how long it had taken to release the pain that was eating her soul, but finally it had disappeared. Now she felt only numbness.

“Why is it that you cry Cyra?”

Jerking back, she had a weapon drawn and aimed at the voice without thinking about it.

“I come in peace and friendship.” The voice was quiet.

“What are you doing here?” She replied in Khuzdul while lowering her weapons some.

“Have you always spoken the language of the Dwarves?”

“As long as I can remember, aye.”

“You have hid it this entire time?” He looked both irritated and amused.

“Aye. Sit if you will your Majesty.”

“My thanks Cyra.” Thorin gave her a smile. “Why did you hide it from us?”

“To learn. May I offer you food or drink?”

“The offer is appreciated but there is no need. Why did you leave me….us?”

“I would nay risk any dwarf, especially not you.”

“How is one a risk to so many?”

“How did you find me King Thorin?” She changed the subject.

“The sound of your music led me to you. Cyra, return with me. Your home is there.”

 “It cannot be.”

“Will you tell me why you believe that?”

“I cannot. Besides, are you not to be wed soon? You should be preparing for your nuptials instead of chasing me down?”

“To be wed? Where did you hear such a tale?!”

“It is on the lips of many in Erebor.”

“There is none in Erebor that I desire.” Standing abruptly, Thorin offered a hand. “Come, I wish to show you something.”

While Cyra did not take his hand, she did stand with him. “Where?”

“Just come.”

The pair walked nearly two miles. While doing so, they stood and walked as equals. 

“Getting winded already Cyra?” Thorin teased when she stopped to look at something.

Giving the dwarf a withering look, she shook her head. Crooking a finger she beckoned him over.

“Always come when you are called for like a servant, Thorin?” She smirked.  When he scowled in anger, she grabbed his shoulders and made him look out into the clearing. Thousands of fireflies swirled and whirled. It was a light show like none other. This was some sort of magical creature and not just a firefly.

“This is what I wished to show you.” He whispered. “I remembered it being further up the path.”

“It’s beautiful.” Cyra turned to him. “Why did you desire to show me this?”

“I don’t know.”

Turning, she looked him in the eye. “Yes you do know. You just have no desire to admit it to yourself.” Still staring him in the eye, her brow furrowed. “You also have no desire to admit it to me. Thorin? What is going on?”

Thorin shook his head. Grabbing Cyra’s hand he dragged her down into the clearing. “Be still.” He whispered.

All of a sudden the swirling stopped. The bright little creatures began to swarm around Thorin. Cyra bit her lip to keep the sounds of laughter at bay, but it seemed all at once the magical creatures noticed her. They began to swarm around her and for a moment Cyra looked afraid. Within seconds, they had formed what looked like a crown and a cape around her body. Thorin turned to see what was happening and in an instant his mouth dropped open.

She looked like a scared rabbit and darted out of the grove and back to the trail. The fireflies were unable to follow past their own sanctuary. Dropping to her knees, Cyra wrapped her arms around her stomach and doubled over.

She shook with terror, having no idea what or why that happened.

Thorin quickly followed her. “What happened?”

“I know not.”

“Did they harm you?” The proud dwarf was upset.

“No.”

“Cyra, I have been up here many times in my life. Never before have I seen that happen. Is this why you won’t tell me who you truly are?”

Bile burned the back of her throat. In seconds she was off and running back towards the campsite. Thorin tried to run after her but she was far too fast for him. When he finally arrived, the fire had been doused and the campsite was empty.

“CYRA!!!!!!!”

 


End file.
